


R.A.C.K.

by VincentMeoblinn



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha!Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal, BDSM, Bottom Shaming, Claiming, Jealousy, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mpreg, Multi, Omega!John, Omegaverse, Oral, Pack Alpha!Greg, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pining John Watson reveals to Sherlock and Lestrade that he has a tattoo in an interesting area, causing them to curiously demand a viewing. One thing leads to another and a Sherlock's shocking (for an Alpha) secret is revealed. Will their friendship survive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
 

 

“R.A.C.K. tattoos,” Sherlock frowned, “When I was a teen everyone was getting safe, sane, consentual tattoos.”

 

“They’re all the rage,” John agreed.

 

They were on the tube, mostly because Lestrade was with them and he’d insisted they take it. He wanted to have a bit of fun with Sherlock, and he always made a scene on the tube by instigating _someone_. John, however, just wasn’t in the mood today. He’d been head over heels for his flatmate for over a year now, having realized it once the git returned from having faked his death. Now he was bordering on depressed because nothing he did caught the man’s attention.

 

“It’s just a fad,” Lestrade replied, hoping to egg Sherlock on.

 

Sherlock didn’t bite, but John did.

 

“Now hold on,” He replied a bit peeved, “ _I’ve_ got a RACK tattoo, and it’s not just a-”

 

“ _You_ have a _tattoo_?” Sherlock asked, his face shocked.

 

“ _You’re_ surprised?” John grinned, “Bloody hell, I should play numbers today!”

 

Lestrade laughed and shook his head, “I think the better question is where you’ve got it that your own flatmate hasn’t seen it!”

 

John blushed, “Nowhere I’m flashing in the tube.”

 

“Why not?” Sherlock asked, apparently honestly confused by his refusal.

 

“Because I’m not in heat so baring my bum will get me an ASBO.”

 

Sherlock gaped, Lestrade nearly fell over laughing, and John blushed up to his ears.

 

“You have a tattoo on your _bottom_?” Sherlock asked, stuck somewhere between intrigued and disgusted, “A RACK tattoo?”

 

“Oi, I was in the army, remember? An _Omega_ in the _army?_ RACK was my fucking motto right behind ‘God save the Queen’.”

 

Lestrade sobered and nodded, then grinned, “Your ‘fucking’ motto, eh?”

 

“Shut it,” John snickered, elbowing him.

 

“You had _sex_ in the _army_?” Sherlock asked, his face registering all new levels of shock, “John, how was I not aware of this side of you?”

 

“Bloody hell, Sherlock, I was in the army for _years_ , you can’t have expected me to be celibate that whole time. I haven’t been since we met.”

 

“Yes, but I assumed that was because you were making up for lost time! You’re… _cuddly_!” Sherlock stated with obvious disgust.

 

“Thanks. I think. For your information, I’m also a full blooded Omega with needs!” John snapped irritably.

 

“Hey, baby, I’ll meet your needs!” A teen called from across the cabin.

 

John scowled, “You haven’t got the knot for it! Your ears are too wet!”

 

“Oh, don’t be like that, baby!” The teen sneered, standing and heading over with a rather ridiculously exaggerated gate.

 

“Have you soiled yourself to walk like that?” Sherlock asked in disgust, “Stay on your side, please, you’re not wanted here. He’s clearly refused you.”

 

“What are you, his Alpha?” The punk sneered.

 

“His flatmate! Piss off!” Sherlock snapped.

 

The teen waved a dismissive hand at them and sat back down. Lestrade frowned at the lack of action but John was relieved. Until Sherlock turned back to him and continued the conversation.

 

“When we get home I want to see it. It’s ridiculous that I’m missing this much data about you.”

 

“Ah, okay,” John blushed, feeling himself start to dampen at the though.

 

“Me, too!” Lestrade chimed in.

 

Shit. Not good.

 

“Ahh…” John blushed.

 

“Your input is not needed,” Sherlock snipped, then paused, “Have _you_ got a tattoo?”

 

“Yeah. Several. You aren’t seeing em,” Lestrade sulked.

 

“Not even if I let you see John’s?” Sherlock offered.

 

“Oi! _My_ arse!” John snapped, but was ignored.

 

“Okay then, I see his arse tat, you see mine.”

 

“Deal,” Sherlock decided.

 

“Anyone else you want to get in on this?” John snapped at Sherlock.

 

“No, Lestrade is sufficient. I’m already aware that Mrs. Hudson has no tattoos and she’s the only one who matters besides you two.”

 

“I don’t even want to know how you know that,” Lestrade stated with disgust.

 

John, however, was touched, because he knew for a fact Sherlock meant what he’d just said. The man had died to save them, after all.

 

XXXXXXXXXXX

 

Back at the flat John nervously bent over in his room and slid his trousers and pants down in one go, figuring getting it over with was the best bet.

 

There was a long moment of silence and then Lestrade quietly asked what each of them were thinking.

 

“So. M*A*S*H fan?”

 

“A bit, yeah. It seemed appropriate at the time. Got a laugh out of my lovers, at least. I prefer male Alphas and I was in the army and a doctor so…”

 

“Yeah, makes sense,” Lestrade replied, his voice husky.

 

“Shame they couldn’t paint your actual orifice to match the others, or change the color of the other asterics to match,” Sherlock offered.

 

“I’ve got flavored lube, actually, and it’s the same color.”

 

“You’re shitting me,” Lestrade whispered in awe.

 

“Nope,” John chuckled, his dog tags swinging a bit. This was such a familiar position and conversation, “In fact, this whole dialogue was pretty much my pick-up line.”

 

“Consider me very picked and very up,” Lestrade purred.

 

_And very much NOT the Alpha I was trying to attract._

 

“You find this attractive?” Sherlock asked.

 

“Fuck yeah, you don’t? Are you a machine?” Lestrade questioned.

 

“Well it’s… John!” Sherlock excused.

 

“You can’t possibly tell me you don’t want to lick that pretty pink hole until it turns red,” Lestrade stated firmly, and John’s body agreed and started tenting shamefully, “Bloody hell, look how wet he’s getting! That’s hot as fuck!”

 

“I’ve never thought about it before. It’s… _John_.”

 

“You are a machine! Move over. John. Consent?”

 

_Fuck it. I might as well have someone._

 

“Safe word is grenade.”

 

Lestrade chuckled, “Army material indeed!”

 

Then the man dropped down to his knees and John moaned appreciatively at the hot wet muscle sliding over his twitching hole. Lestrade echoed his moan and John shivered at the vibration across his sensitive flesh. He was panting in no time and it hadn’t left his attention that Sherlock _hadn’t left the room_. A glance over his shoulder showed the detective watching them in fascination; his pupils were blown and his normally pale cheeks were a faint pink. He swallowed convulsively when he saw John watching him and met his eyes almost shyly.

 

“You’re very lovely like this,” Sherlock stated, his voice deeper than usual.

 

That sound and those words went straight to John’s cock and he moaned and buried his face in the blankets to avoid saying something utterly humiliating. He pushed back on Lestrade who took the hint and stood up to tug his cock out.

 

“Been wanting this for ages,” The DI grunted as he pushed home. John gasped and thrust back eagerly, “Damn you’re tight for such a cock slut!”

 

“Who said I’m a cockslut just because I’ve got a RACK tat, hm? Harder!”

 

“Says the cockslut,” Lestrade teased, ran his hand over John’s hip, and then gave his arse a sharp slap. John moaned approval and Lestrade did it twice more before Sherlock suddenly fleeing the room interrupted them both.

 

John wilted a bit.

 

“Easy, soldier,” Lestrade quietly soothed, “Try to enjoy this anyway. His loss, eh?”

 

John nodded and tried to focus on the thick member gliding in and out of his naturally lubricated channel, but he was having trouble enjoying it as much. Lestrade tried pumping his wilting cock a bit to get him back up again, but John sighed and spoke up.

 

“Grenade. Sorry.”

 

Lestrade sighed and slipped out, “Me, too, Johnny. I’d hoped he’d…”

 

They were interrupted by Sherlock suddenly bursting back in, riding crop in hand.

 

“Are you done already?” He asked, his tone disappointed.

 

John hardened instantly.

 

“Apparently not,” Lestrade grinned, “John got some nerves, but seems better now you’re back.”

 

“Mm, that makes sense. We live together; I’m probably something of a comfort zone to him. Bend back over, if you don’t mind, John. Consent?”

 

“Hell, yes!”

 

[NSFW RACK Tattoo](http://eychloii.tumblr.com/private/53669533911/tumblr_mouif4w3Mr1s7yz50)


	2. Chapter 2

 

  


John had never had so many fantasies fulfilled at once. First off, he hadn’t wanted a ‘reputation’ in the army, so two Alphas at once had never happened for him despite it being his favorite wank fantasy. Second of all, two so very _Dominant_ Alphas taking him was beyond hot, even if he hadn’t considered Gregory up until the moment he’d started eating him out. Third, Sherlock: that basically said it all.

 

Sherlock _Fucking_ Holmes was down his throat and whipping his back with the very riding crop he’d tossed off while thinking of. The man was using the momentum of his swings and Lestrade’s thrusts to jar him into John’s mouth while the doctor moaned and kept his teeth clear. He’d gotten fairly fantastic at blowjobs and was deep-throating Sherlock as much as he could with an Alpha cock; it helped that Sherlock tended towards long and slender more than any Alpha he’d ever had, though he was by no means _small_. Most couldn’t fit the tip of their massive cocks into the back of his throat, but John was happily enjoying his lack of tonsils at the moment. The only thing that could possibly make this hotter would be Moriarty, hog-tied and gagged in the corner, being forced to watch it all. Of course, no sooner had he thought that then Sherlock groaned and asked him something that nearly made him come on the spot.

 

“John… I want you to fuck me. Will you?”

“Geezus!” Lestrade gasped, and knotted John almost viciously.

 

That settled it for John, who popped off Sherlock’s cock and came screaming an affirmative.

 

“Yes! Fuck yes! YES!!”

 

Sherlock turned around and John came face to face with a sight he’d never even known he wanted until that moment: Sherlock’s pale arse with a butt plug spreading his cheeks. It was a very Sherlockian one, as well; it looked more like the drain for a tub, all white and with a small rubber ring to tug it out. John grasped it while Lestrade groaned and ground his knot into John’s prostate. As he slipped it free he realized with a groan it was a string of _anal beads_! They were smaller than the sort used on Omegas, but it didn’t dull the eroticism of seeing each lubed bead pop free of Sherlock’s muscles while his hole clenched and grasped as though to suck them back in.

 

Sherlock moaned, Lestrade swore like a sailor, and John thanked every deity he’d ever heard of for this day. Once the last and smallest bead had popped free he tossed the string onto the bed without a care and used Sherlock’s hips to lever himself up. Lestrade wrapped his arms tightly around John’s midriff, his chin setting on his shoulder as he smeared lube on and pumped Johns cock before helping guide him into Sherlock’s twitching hole.

 

“I’ve never done this before,” John whispered, grateful for Lestrade’s intervention, “I’m too small to… oh, fuck!”

 

“I’ve never seen an _Alpha_ take a _cock_ before,” Lestrade whispered back, then kissed his cheek as John’s head fell back in bliss at the tight, wet, heat slowly wrapping itself around his cock, “And trust me, you’re plenty big. We’re not meant for this like you are.”

 

“If _either_ of you _ever_ tell anyone...” Sherlock whimpered almost fearfully, and no wonder as he’d be more ridiculed than he already was.

 

“And let them _wank_ over it?” Lestrade sputtered, “This is _my_ hot as fuck sexcapade and I’m going to jerk off to this moment till my dick falls off!”

 

Sherlock grunted and John glanced down to see he was fully inside the man.

 

_Fuck! What do I do now?!_

 

John didn’t have a chance to question. Sherlock slid forward and then thrust back and John’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as _every_ nerve ending on his body was stimulated at once. Lestrade had his nipples- which he was twisting and pinching beautifully- and his prostate, Sherlock his cock, and John’s fingers were caressing that smooth backside in utter bliss. He felt like he should be doing more for Sherlock, but the man arched his back and apparently found his prostate because he began to buck and moan. Every thrust back by Sherlock ground Lestrade’s knot into John’s prostate and he could feel the coil of desire tightening in his belly.

“Oh, gods, yes!” John moaned eagerily, “So fucking good!”

“Sherlock, the crop…” Lestrade gasped, “Pass it!”

Sherlock fumbled for the crop and passed it to Lestrade, who snapped it over John’s chest and stomach. The angle was difficult but he was getting soft-medium strikes in and he added to it by pulling the man’s hair so he could get a good bite in at his shoulder (careful to avoid the mating gland). John moaned appreciatively as Lestrade then shoved his head down.

“Look at it. Look at your dick disappearing inside of him. Tell him how beautiful it is!” Lestrade ordered.

“Oh, fuck, so fucking beautiful!” John gasped, his brain apparently shutting off the dirty-talk function in order to focus on being turned-the-fuck-on.

“How beautiful, eh? You ever see something that hot?”

“No Sir!”

“You want to keep fucking that ass?”

“Yes Sir!”

“Tell him! Beg him!”

“Please, Sherlock, please let me keep fucking your tight ass!”

“Ohhh!” Sherlock cried, out and reached down to grip his cock. John could see him working his knot hard while rubbing the tip up against his own sternum.

“Look at him, squeezing himself. You made him that excited, John. He’s going to come because of you.”

“Please!” John gasped, because he didn’t know if he should or not, “Please let me come, too!”

“Yes!” Sherlock gasped, “Come!”

With that the man cried out and arched his back, his channel clenching around John’s cock like a vice. John lost all lung function and simply gaped in awe as his own climax was dragged out of his body. Behind him Lestrade grunted and John felt more hot seed fill his body. John gasped in some air and started babbling like a fool as his head rocketed into subspace. He only heard half of what he said, but what he did recognize centered mostly on geniuses, detectives, and tying him up with crime-scene tape.

John was minutely aware of climaxing again- he felt the pleasure but it was secondary to the euphoria of subspace- then his body slipped into that fuzzy place that was almost like dreaming. John felt himself laid down and could feel the knot in his bottom slowly going down, but it was all taking place in a timeless void of comfort and pleasure. He lay limp and sighing, enjoying the Alphas caressing his body and hair. Then he was alone for a moment before cool water was pressed to his lips and he drank lazily.

“Come back, John, come on love,” Lestrade coaxed, “Can’t stay there forever.”

“Wanna,” John sighed.

“I want you to, also, but Sherlock’s gone off on us and I think he needs you,” Lestrade replied in a worried tone.

John surfaced so fast his head pounded in protest.

“Sherlock?” John asked in worry.

“He’s downstairs staring out the window.”

John could barely walk yet, so Lestrade helped him downstairs and he staggered across to Sherlock. True enough, the detective was staring blankly out the window in silence. No violin in hand, no deep thoughts, no experiment about to boil over.

“Sherlock?” John asked gently, slipping his arms around Sherlock’s waist in worry, “You didn’t do anything to me I didn’t want, Sherlock, I’m fine. It was all consensual, I loved it. I’m very satisfied.”

“I’m not in topdrop, John,” Sherlock snarled, “Bit difficult to be in topdrop when you _bottomed_.”

Sherlock said the word with such disgust that John backed off in alarm. When Sherlock turned around John got a look at something he’d never thought he’d see before. Sherlock Holmes- ashamed.


	3. Chapter 3

“Where have you put my cocaine, Lestrade? If you’ve flushed it again…”

“Wasn’t me this time. Must have been John or Mrs. Hudson,” Lestrade sighed, “And you can’t turn to drugs every time things don’t work out the way you’d planned. You wanted that, right? Fuck’s sake, Sherlock, it was fantastic! Who cares if you bottomed? Doesn’t make you less of an Alpha!”

“It does, by its very definition, make me ‘less of an Alpha’,” Sherlock growled, “Not to mention destroying the only decent friendships I’ve ever had!”

“Destroying…” John stammered.

This was too much. He still had their scent on his body, Lestrade’s seed distending his abdomen and sloshing about in his bowels in search of a womb that would be closed for another two months until his heat set in. John _couldn’t_ lose Sherlock. Hell, he couldn’t lose either of them!

_Selfish. You can’t have TWO Alphas!_

“Nothing’s been destroyed, Sherlock, neither of us think any less of you. Do we John?” Lestrade argued.

“Gods, no,” John replied, still slightly dazed, “Do you?”

“Think less of you for sandwiching yourself between two Alphas the moment the offer was made? No,” Sherlock replied sarcastically, “How could I possibly think less of a wanton slut?”

Sherlock had _never_ turned his venom on John before. Oh, he’d snipped at him, teased him, mocked him, and scolded him; but he had never outright sought to harm him. John took a step back, horrified and feeling as though he might be physically ill.

“Now you wait just a godsdamned second!” Lestrade roared.

“ **Kneel!** ” Sherlock barked out, and both John and Lestrade hit the ground hard, though Lestrade had managed a one-legged kneel in order to avoid a completely submissive pose.

“You bastard!” Lestrade growled, “What does Domming us prove? You’re stronger than us? Big fucking deal! We don’t care about that! We care about _you!_ ”

John was sobbing, his arms wrapped tightly around his welt-covered sides as the dip after a high came crashing down around him. He was headed for subdrop as fast as a speeding bullet and Lestrade couldn’t get to him before he tipped sideways and curled up in a ball on the floor.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sherlock asked.

“He’s in fucking subdrop you twit! You can’t reject a Sub minutes after a scene, they’ll crash!”

Lestrade scrambled to John’s side and he felt the man’s hand on his neck checking his pulse.

“He isn’t my Sub,” Sherlock snapped, “And I didn’t Dom him during the scene! I shouldn’t even be a part of the equation!”

“You’re really fucking inexperienced, aren’t you? You _did_ Dom him. You beat the snot out of him with a riding crop, and you ordered him to climax. You think just because you were taking it up the arse you weren’t a part of it? I thought you were a _scientist_ , Sherlock! Basic cause and fucking effect! You triggering even _part_ of the hormonal release that is subspace, means you can trigger subdrop! Hell, a Sub can go into subdrop even with a _supportive_ Dom if they’re even a bit ashamed of their actions!”

“I… I didn’t… he’s going to be alright?”

“No, his pulse is dropping,” Lestrade replied, though his voice was becoming fuzzy for John, “Call an ambulance!”

XXXXXXXXXXX

John woke up with a line in his arm and two strange Betas standing over him in uniforms. He was on a mat on the floor, one with rails that must fold out into a wheeled stretcher. There was a sheet over his half-dressed body and Lestrade was gripping his free hand tightly. He could tell by the sleepy, warm hum in his body that they’d pumped him full of fast acting anti-depressants.

“You’re okay, Johnny, you’re going to be fine,” Lestrade soothed.

John groaned in humiliation. Subdrop at his age? Only people who were prone to it kept dropping after forty, and John wasn’t prone to it; which his records would show, which made it obvious to anyone who looked at his chart that he’d done something profoundly stupid. Like sleep with his two Alpha chums and expect it not to be complicated.

“I’m sorry,” John replied.

“Don’t be. Not your fault,” Lestrade reassured, petting his hair the way he would a much younger Sub, “They have to take you to the hospital for at least an hour of observation, but I’m going to come and get you after, okay?”

“You don’t have to. You’re not my Dom, you don’t have to take care of me.”

“We had a scene together: I’m your Dom till you’re better, at the very least,” Lestrade replied in a tone that brooked no argument.

John nodded, refused to look at Sherlock when he moved a step closer, and closed his eyes as they carted him down the stairs and into the waiting ambulance. What would the neighbors think? Hopefully that one of Sherlock’s experiments had harmed him in some way. He couldn’t stand them knowing the truth.

_Where am I going to live? Maybe I can crash with Lestrade for a while, but he’s made it clear he doesn’t want a Sub again after his nasty divorce with Cheryl. I’m not even sure I want him like that. Gods, I’m such a fool! I’ve ruined everything with Sherlock, and for what? A quick shag?_

XXXXXXXXXXX

They kept John for three hours since he kept dropping over and again. Once Lestrade showed up – apparently after ‘dealing’ with Sherlock- they released him into his care as a temporary Dom with instructions and a bottle of pills. Lestrade had already packed him a bag from Baker Street, bringing only a few essentials, some clothes, and his laptop.

“Sherlock’s in a crisis center. I couldn’t make him go, but I argued him into checking himself in. I almost had to call Mycroft, but luckily he saw reason.”

John nodded and kept his eyes staring out the window as they drove to Lestrade’s flat.

“Listen: you didn’t do anything wrong here; Sherlock’s in the wrong. He’s being a dick… an _insecure_ dick, but a dick nonetheless. You were fantastic back there. Beautiful, even. It’s been ages since I was with someone so responsive.”

Lestrade’s hand left the steering wheel to stroke John’s thigh but he gently pushed it away.

“I’m sorry. I just… I’ve worked hard to make sure I’m not just some Sub or some Omega to the people in my life, and I just completely sabotaged that. I’m not in the mood to be pampered and I’m not feeling all sweet and cuddly. I’m a terrible Sub, Greg. I’ve always been. Why do you think I set out to have a career instead?”

“John, I don’t think any less of you. It would take a hell of a lot more than a kinky shag to do that. You _aren’t_ just an Omega or a Sub to me, but you _are_ an Omega Submissive and you’ve got the needs of one. You want a career? Good, work your arse off, but that doesn’t mean you can’t come home and be someone’s Sub, too. I can train you, you know.”

“I know _how_ to, Greg. I do. I just… I’ve got a temper.”

Greg snorted, “The most interesting Subs do.”

“Tell that to my less than interested Doms.”

“How old were you last time you got rejected by an Alpha? Besides our idiot friend, that is.”

“I dunno… nineteen? Right before I signed up.”

“Did you know what you wanted out of an Alpha then?”

“No. I was fresh out of subfrenzy. I was pretty much dumb as a doorknob.”

“You think the Alphas had it more together?”

John hadn’t thought of that, so he spent a moment on it now as Greg pulled into his building’s parking garage, found his assigned spot, and opened John’s car door for him. John let him carry his bag, too, even though he blushed when the man pulled it from the trunk with no indication of handing it to him. He even allowed the Dom to put a hand at the small of his back and guide him towards the elevators the way someone would while courting.

_Are we courting?_

“Are we courting?” John asked, deciding if Greg could be straight with him, he’d better do the same.

“Not if you don’t want to. If you want, I’m just a friend who cares enough to help you through a tough time. I can do either. I care about you, John, but I care about our friendship too much to force you into something you don’t want. I’d _like_ a relationship with you, I’d _like_ to be your Dom, but I don’t _need_ to be. Besides, only a fool could miss the fact you want Sherlock the way a fish wants water. I was hoping to help you get him, thinking he just needed a nudge in the right direction, but I thought he was just being typical dumb-ass Sherlock. I had no idea he had some sort of bottoming kink that made him afraid of sex.”

“You think that’s what the problem is?” John asked, deciding to file the rest away for later.

“Yeah, seems like. He talked a bit after you were carted off. Apparently he’s only had sex once before- bottomed for a Beta male in Uni- and was pretty much traumatized when the bastard spread it around he liked to take it up the arse. He had to switch universities and everything. He was mocked and humiliated. After that he resolved never to have sex again and never to get close to someone emotionally like he had that Beta.”

“Tell me he mentioned a name so I can find him and put a bullet through his good-for-nothing brain?”

“I purposely didn’t ask because the same thought crossed my mind.”

“…You care for Sherlock, too?”

“I’m your pack Alpha*, generally speaking we’re all Polygamists. It’s some sort of hormonal thing: we produce extra testosterone and sporadic levels of androgen, which causes us to become physically attracted and emotionally attached to anyone in our pack who isn’t blood-related. You wouldn’t produce androgen outside of sex, just to give you a comparison.”

“Androgen,” John sighed, “The cuddle hormone.”

“Pretty much. Feel like cuddling yet?” Lestrade teased as they stepped out of the elevator and headed down the hall to his flat.

“Actually? Yeah.”

 

*For those of you wondering how Lestrade could be their pack Alpha, but be the weaker Dom: Pack Alpha is an instinctive reaction. While Alphas will have a ‘dominance fight’, the decision over who is the pack Alpha is not made by who is stronger or more dominant. It’s based on an instinctive need to have the better leader in control. Pack Alpha can change as the pack matures. A son can rise above a father or a different Dom take control.


	4. Chapter 4

John spent several hours being washed and cuddled by Lestrade; he thought it would be humiliating but the man never treated him as though he were beneath him, only as though he were an Omega Sub and a very dear friend. John warmed up to the care and wept openly in Lestrade’s arms, finally letting out the burdened emotions that were keeping him hovering on the edge of subdrop. When he woke up hours later he found he’d been moved to the couch and Lestrade was watching T.V. with John’s head in his lap.

“Morning, sunshine,” Lestrade greeted cheerily, “I called out of work today. Sherlock called half an hour ago and wants to see you. Are you up for it?”

“Erm… can I make you breakfast?” John asked, his urge to submit feeling almost stifling all of the sudden.

“Four eggs over easy, two slices of toast with whatever jam there is, bangers and mash, orange juice, black coffee, and the paper,” Lestrade replied, his voice just bordering on it being an order.

John gave him a grateful smile and performed his morning ablutions before heading for the kitchen. He made some scrambled eggs and toast for himself as well, but kept it light because his stomach was rebelling. He set breakfast up at the breakfast bar and called Lestrade in when it was ready. The man cheerily left the couch and sat in the chair John was nervously kneeling beside. Lestrade started with a small bite of each item to see if it was correctly made, nodded to John to let him know he approved, and then alternated between eating and feeding John. John gratefully ate from the man’s fingers or fork, feeling a surge of contentment at having satisfied an Alpha Dom. When he finished eating, Lestrade wiped off his hands and mouth, laid the napkin on the plate, and turned slightly to pet John’s hair. John leaned in and rested his head on Lestrade’s thigh.

“If you can’t face him, it’s fine. He’s not coming home yet.”

“It’s not my home anymore,” John replied sadly.

“Don’t let this break you two up, John,” Lestrade advised, though there was no order behind it.

“I don’t think it’s my call. You saw him. He’s never been like that with me.”

Lestrade chuckled, “Hell, he’s been like that with me, and I’m his pack Alpha! Look, you can stay here as long as you like- hell, mate with me if you want to- but I don’t want you giving up on Sherlock. Give him another chance. With time and space he’ll cool off.”

John nodded and pressed his face between Lestrade’s thighs, drawing a moan from the man as John rubbed his face over his clothed bits. It didn’t take long to get him to abandon the stool and press him into the couch. John let himself drown his breaking heart in hot, hard sex; Lestrade’s handcuffs biting into his wrist as the man cracked a sharp plastic flogger across his back. He wept the entire time, but he felt numb rather than upset. Subspace eluded him, but Lestrade didn’t push it, possibly because he knew it wasn’t what John wanted this time.

Afterwards they showered together and spent the day watching crap telly and eating pizza. It was so ordinary, so utterly what a pair of friends-with-benefits would do, that John let himself think of them that way for the next three days.

Then Sherlock came home.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

**John, where are you? SH**

**Gregory’s place. I didn’t know if you’d want me there. JW**

**Come back at once. SH**

**What for? JW**

**What do you mean ‘what for’? What else? I have a case. Something sitting on the website. I contacted the sender and it’s rather urgent. Meet me at St. Katherine Docks immediately. SH**

**Do you have any idea what you put me through? No. JW**

**You are asking for an apology, aren’t you? Very well. I’m sorry. Now come at once. SH**

**What are you sorry for? JW**

**For whatever has gotten your knickers in a twist. Did I mention the urgency? SH**

**Not good enough, Sherlock. Not bloody good enough! JW**

**Fine. I’ll go alone. SH**

**Could be dangerous. SH**

**Bring your gun. SH**

**I’m here, where are you? SH**

**Couldn’t you find a cab? Call the company. SH**

**The number is 020 3399 9966. SH**

**John? SH**

**I’m not a Sub. I won’t beg. SH**

**Sherlock stop texting him. He’s freaking the fuck out! GL**

**What for? SH**

**Because you broke his fucking heart you gob shite! What sort of plonker treats a Sub the way you did and then just orders them home? I’ve half a mind to pick up some pheromones, start up his heat, claim him, and breed him until he forgets your name! GL**

**John doesn’t want that. SH**

**Oh, you know what he wants now, do you? THEN GET THE FUCK OVER HERE AND TAKE CARE OF YOUR SUB YOU WANKSTAIN*!**

Lestrade wouldn’t let John drink, not even a single beer, all because he claimed Sherlock was on his way over and he wanted John to have a clear head. Lestrade was an arse, Sherlock was an even bigger arse, and John was both horny and angry. The horny part was no surprise. He was always horny when he was angry. That was why he’d gotten laid so much after moving in with Sherlock. Five minutes with the man and he was trying to bed every Beta on the block.

“I am a tart,” John decided sulkily.

“You’re not a tart!” Lestrade scolded from the kitchen where he was putting John’s unopened beer back in the fridge.

“Come and fuck me!” John called back.

“Not till Sherlock gets here!”

“You’re mad! He’s not coming!” Then a bit quieter to himself, “I should’ve gone. Why the fuck did I tell him no?”

“Because you had to,” Lestrade replied, dropping down onto the sofa beside John, “Because he needed to hear it. Just because he’s a Dom and you’re a Sub doesn’t mean he gets to walk all over you.”

“That’s just it, Greg, he always has! I was fine with it until sex came into the picture, now I just want the old life back. If I go home now do you know what will happen?”

“You two will fuck like rabbits.”

“We’ll fuck like rabbits! Then I’ll wake up the next morning to a cold, empty bed and a funky smell coming from the kitchen.”

“I’m guessing not breakfast.”

“Not breakfast, oh no, because Sherlock fucking Holmes can’t cook, but he can grow diphtheria in egg cartons and develop a faster acting acid in the kitchen sink!”

“Not to mention the body parts.”

“And don’t even get me started on the body parts!”

“So what do you want from him, a house with a white picket fence and ten kids?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“You better decide,” Lestrade stated as the door received a firm knock seconds before someone started picking the lock, “because unless my shit-for-brains nephew is off the wagon again, that’s him.”

The door opened and Sherlock stormed in with a full head of steam, but before John could open his mouth to great or scream at him, Sherlock tackled Lestrade. John yelped in alarm and cleared out, knowing a dominance fight when he saw one and knowing full well to stay the hell out of it. Sherlock and Lestrade were growling and swearing at each other as they tussled on the couch before toppling onto the floor. John was hard as hell, and he could see that each of them were as well. Alphas were normally hard when fighting for dominance, but he was surprised at his own intense arousal since it wasn’t normal for fighting to get him going. Until it hit him: they were fighting over him! His body was preparing itself for the winner!

John hesitated only a moment longer, then walked across the room and shut the door before stripping off his clothes. Once naked he dropped down to all fours with his bottom facing the brawling Alphas, and waited for the inevitable. His body was really gearing up and John panted as his body temperature rose and he went into Mock Heat. He heard the change from the men behind him as they froze, sniffed the air, moaned, and then practically roared a challenge to each other.

“Oh, gods, please!” John cried out, keening as he lowered his shoulders to the carpet and raised his dripping backside as high as he could while still on his knees, “Please, it hurts! I need you! Please! Please!”

“John,” Sherlock breathed, and John felt the man at his side stroking his hips and nuzzling his tented entrance.

“Sherlock!” John cried out, thrusting back readily.

“I need some of that, Sherlock,” Lestrade growled.

For a horrifying moment John thought he was going to be left to suffer for longer while the two continued their battle, but instead he felt Sherlock plunge two fingers into John’s body, scraping around while holding his other hand beneath his wet and dilated pucker. John moaned as his prostate was grazed, but then cried out angrily as Sherlock’s fingers left him again. He looked over his shoulder to see why he was being ignored to find Lestrade kneeling at an angle from him, his arse presented to Sherlock who was using John’s collected lube to prepare the other Alphas body for…

“Oh, gods!” John cried out, his cock leaking at the realization of what was about to happen.

Sure enough, Lestrade crawled up to John’s front end, planted a heated kiss on his lips, and then squirmed beneath him. John was too lost in Heat to participate much, but Sherlock was content to line John up and press his hips forward for him until he sank into Lestrade’s virginal entrance.

“Fuck!” Lestrade gasped, “Burns… mph…”

“Hurt?” Sherlock asked, his mind too far gone to create full sentences.

“Mmmm, s’gooooood,” Lestrade groaned, rocking his hips back and forth to get used to the stretch.

John groaned at the teasing pleasure and then cried out in bliss as Sherlock pressed inside of him in one sharp thrust. This was what he was made for: being filled to the brim with hard, dripping Alpha cock until his muscles clenched, the knot tied them together, and hot seed filled his womb.

“Breed me!” John groaned, “Fill me up with your come! Make my belly swell from it!”

His last words were a demanding growl and Sherlock moaned before setting a punishing pace. John was basically draped over Lestrade who was shallowly fucking himself on John’s throbbing prick. The DI moaned wantonly whenever he caught his own prostate, but was more focused on jerking himself off. John pulled himself together enough to reach around and grip the Alphas engorged knot. Lestrade came with a scream and John groaned at the beautifully tight clench around his inexperienced cock. Behind him, Sherlock was working himself up to a passion. John felt the man’s knot starting to pulse against his rosebud, and begged for it shamelessly.

“You want this?” Sherlock asked, pausing to grind his cock inside John’s body, teasing his entrance with the hot, swollen muscle that John needed to have a proper orgasm.

“Yes! Please! Knot me! Claim me!”

“Is that what you want, John? Will you submit yourself to me? Take my knot, bear my cubs, and pleasure me always?”

“Yes! Yes! Please! I want you to own me!”

“And Lestrade?”

John faltered. He didn’t know what Sherlock wanted him to say. The man in question was still whimpering and pleasuring himself on John’s body, but now John snatched his hands away in alarm. Was he wrong? Wasn’t this what Sherlock wanted?

“I don’t…! I want…!”

“Say it, John,” Sherlock growled, drawing his nails down John’s back to refocus him, “Say you want us both.”

“I want you both! Oh, gods, please! Please! I want to belong to you both!”

Sherlock thrusted his knot home, rocketing John into Lestrade just as both men came hard. Sherlock groaned, grinding his knot into John’s prostate to bring himself off and to milk John’s orgasm. It worked perfectly, and Sherlock’s hot come filled John’s willing body.

Sherlock leaned forward and clamped his teeth down on John’s neck, breaking the skin over the scenting gland and swallowing the blood and fluids within. John cried out and came again, whimpering as he felt Lestrade beginning to spasm beneath him as he approached yet another orgasm. The second Sherlock licked and then released John’s mating mark, John extended his own fangs and broke through Lestrade’s scenting gland. The Alpha growled angrily as the pain disrupted his pleasure, but angled his head to accept the marking nonetheless. He moaned as John licked his neck and released him. Then Lestrade moved forward and pulled himself off of John’s cock.

For a split second John thought he’d done something wrong, then Lestrade lifted him up, pressing John’s back against Sherlock’s front and his own front against John’s. Their cocks were trapped between each other and John moaned at the unfamiliar feel of an Alphas knot pressed against his belly. Lestrade repeated the mate claiming with John and then Sherlock, who gasped and nuzzled John’s hair while Lestrade claimed him.

They held still for several minutes then, John whimpering in need but knowing it was necessary. Finally Sherlock’s knot went down and he was able to slip free. He crawled around John, who watched in awe as Lestrade used a handful of his own spunk to lubricate Sherlock’s passage, and then gasped as Sherlock sank back on him at the same moment that Lestrade buried himself slowly in John’s greedy hole.

“Oh, gods, it’s so good!” John cried out.

“Bite me, John! Do it!” Sherlock ordered.

John dropped forward, sinking his teeth into Sherlock’s already open wound and sucking the blood and fluids into his mouth. He could taste Lestrade there, but the marking didn’t disintegrate as it otherwise might have if someone else made a claim on an already mated person, not with Lestrade being a pack Alpha. It was complete. All three of them together were mates.

Lestrade knotted John forcefully the second he released Sherlock’s neck and then jarred him back and forth over Sherlock’s body as he ground his knot against John’s prostate fast and hard.

“Oh, gods, I’m so close!” Lestrade moaned, and gave John a harsh slap to spur himself on.

John groaned and pleaded for more, loving the rain of hard palms that came down on his sensitive bottom. Sherlock pulled one of his arms forward and bit it, sending John tumbling into orgasm. John’s orgasm milked Lestrade’s knot and the man groaned as he emptied himself into John’s orifice. They held still a moment as Lestrade sighed in relief, John finally reached a point where the heat ebbed off enough for him to think straight, and poor Sherlock desperately stroked himself beneath John.

“Don’t go soft yet, I’m not bloody done!” Sherlock growled.

John was at a loss as to what to do, but Lestrade took over, pulled John up onto his knees, and pulled John’s hips back for him. In a moment John was getting into the thrill of thrusting into an Alphas body, moaning as he felt himself reaching yet another climax. Sherlock was chanting their names over and again with no apparent awareness of it. John thought he even heard him shout ‘Sherlock’ at one point. Lestrade reached around to grip Sherlock’s knot while John dug his fingers into the man’s hips as fireworks sparked behind his eyes and his cock frantically tried to empty out his already depleted bollocks.

“Fuck!” Sherlock swore, and John felt him come all the way through his own body.

Sherlock collapsed into a pile of his and Lestrade’s spunk. Lestrade and John eased themselves down sideways onto the floor. Sherlock surprised them by rolling onto his back and moaning as he rubbed their combined fluids all over his chest.

“I take it back, John, I’m the cockslut. Tomorrow I want you both to come all over me while I wank.”

“Don’t get me started again, I’m tired,” John pleaded.

Six hours was the norm for a Mock Heat, but they were spared and it ended at four. The exhausted men slept where they dropped in a pile on the floor, limbs tangled, hair tacky with sweat and other fluids, lips swollen from kissing and sucking each other off, and muscles lax with pleasure.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

“I don’t see why I have to move my lab to St. Barts when I’ve already got it here!” Sherlock argued for the third time that day.

“Because John is pregnant and we can’t raise our cubs in a chemical waste plant!” Lestrade roared back.

John calmly sipped his herbal tea and watched his lovers go from snarling and yelling, to biting and scratching, to groping and kissing, and then down onto the floor where they rutted their hard Alpha cocks against each other- gripping each other’s knots tightly- until they came explosively across each other’s bodies.

“May I please have some custard, Masters?” John asked.

“Yeah,” Lestrade grunted.

“Mph,” Sherlock replied from the beneath Lestrade.

“My feet are swollen,” John sighed dramatically.

“I’ll get it,” Lestrade groaned, levering himself up, “Sherlock got you the tea.”

Sherlock was busy running his hands through their leavings and licking it off his hands anyway.

“You’ve been eating sweets again, Gregory!” Sherlock called.

“Shut it!” Lestrade snapped back, but didn’t re-start their fight.

Sherlock finally dragged his sexed up self off the floor, re-situated his clothes, and set about finishing up the packing of his lab. John smiled at him lovingly whenever their eyes met, and the sight of the Subs swollen belly made Sherlock flush with pride and joy. John had never seen Sherlock happy before, and now he understood why. The man wasn’t so much a sociopath as he was lonely and hurt. He was healing now, held safe by Lestrade and made to feel strong and beautiful by John. He was now unashamed of his status as a bottom in their little group, though during Heat he topped as much as Gregory did. John jokingly called himself ‘the cucumbers and cream cheese’ and his two Alphas his ‘bread’. It was an especially good analogy as his biggest pregnancy craving had turned out to be cucumber sandwiches.

“John, I can still play my violin, can’t I?” Sherlock worried, “Surely the cubs will like that?”

“I’m sure they’ll love it, Sherlock, just like I do… when it isn’t between the hours of 8PM and 9AM.”

Sherlock let out a long-suffering sigh and Lestrade kissed his cheek in passing.

“You’ll get used to it, Sherlock. Just think of how much joy those little bundles will be, eh?”

“We’re going to need a bigger flat,” Sherlock sighed.

“Sherlock Holmes leave Baker Street?” John quipped, “England would fall!”

 

*I confess to having way too much fun with google today. However, while looking up British swear words, I also discovered how very few American curse words I know, and isn’t that just a little bit sad?


End file.
